


Cat's Paw

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [19]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Canonical Character Death, Fights, Gen, Magic, Season Finale, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 05:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: It all comes crashing together in the season two finale ofCarolina: The Teenage Witch!





	Cat's Paw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creatrixanimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatrixanimi/gifts), [Aryashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryashi/gifts).



> And here is the magic-packed conclusion of season two! I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Featuring gorgeous art by creatrixanimi, and written with a lot of assistance by aryashi, without either of whom this story wouldn't be as fun (or as long) as it is!

“Staring at the clock isn’t going to make it eight any sooner,” Grif drawls.

Simmons looks away from the clock long enough to frown at Grif. “I know,” he says. He starts to check the time again and visibly restrains himself. He picks up his copied spellbook instead, flipping through it like it’ll show him some answers. Carolina and Church aren’t even here yet, and he already looks tense enough to explode.

Grif tries not to let Simmons’ anxiety affect him, even if the nervous babble and lack of anything like details from Carolina is making them both uneasy. His fur is prickling with nervous energy, and he tucks his tail under him so that Simmons won’t notice the anxious twitching.

When the doorbell finally rings, Simmons almost trips in his rush to answer it.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Simmons,” Carolina says. She plucks at the straps of her backpack as she and Church both enter. One look at her expression, half-determined, half-worried, and Grif knows he’s not going to like whatever she has to say.

Church, meanwhile, stares around the living room like he’d rather be anywhere but here. When he spots the photocopied spellbook, his scowl darkens.

Simmons glances between them. “Uh, do you guys want some water or--”

Despite the tension in the air, Grif can’t help but snort. “Seriously, Simmons? You’re gonna give them dinner while they tell us whatever Felix and Locus did now?”

Simmons flushes, but Church brightens a little at the mention of food.

“Dinner?”

Carolina nudges Church with her elbow. “Focus.” Then she takes a deep breath. Her gaze flickers over to Grif for a second before she focuses on Simmons, much to Grif’s amusement. “Um. So yesterday Felix and Locus robbed a Council storage facility and stole a lot of powerful ingredients.”

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Church adds. “Like maybe they can actually take out the whole Council bad.”

“Oh, that’d be...horrible,” Grif mutters, all fake concern.

Simmons shoots him a look that says he wouldn’t be upset if the Council got taken out, but also that he doesn’t think Grif is being helpful. Grif pretends not to notice.

Church’s lips twitch, like he doesn’t disagree either. “Or something else. Either way, super bad.”

Carolina takes another breath. Her chin goes up, into the same determined look Grif remembers from when she was trying to argue during the knife incident. “So I want to scry on them again and see what they’re planning.”

“You want to--” Simmons’ voice goes up.

“It’s cool,” Grif says before Simmons can start screeching. He licks the tip of his nose when Simmons makes a strangled, disbelieving sound and the kids stare at him. “Well, not cool, this all sucks, but Locus and Felix won’t know about the scrying.” He eyes the backpack, swallowing down an uncomfortable growl. “You brought the knife with you?”

“Yeah,” Carolina says. “And the scrying mirror.”

The mirror turns out to be some tacky tourist beach mirror with fake seashells on the rim. It’s a little funny, but would be funnier if it didn’t mean Grif was about to have to look at Felix’s ugly face and hear his awful voice. Or see Locus again and wonder how he was so off about the guy during their first meeting.

Carolina props the mirror up on the couch. She looks self-conscious as she holds up the knife. Simmons’ stare, which is a mixture of interest and worry, probably doesn’t help her stage fright. She presses the tip of it to the edge of the mirror and makes a slow circle. “Show us Felix and Locus,” she orders.

All four of them crowd around the mirror, Grif jumping down to the floor and bracing his paws against the cushion seat to poke his head up for a good look. It means his tail is thrashing behind him, but at least it keeps hitting Simmons’ leg instead of one of the kids’.  

Simmons doesn’t say anything about it, just stares intently at the mirror.

When Carolina repeats herself a third time, the mirror surface glows blue. The familiar sound of a bubbling spell reaches Grif’s ears a second before the surface clears and he can see Felix and Locus standing at an enormous cauldron.

“We don’t need to use the fire dragon heart,” Locus says. He turns and Grif notices the floating map behind them. The edges are blurred from the constraints of the scrying spell, but it’s still clearly a map of Westbridge. Locus frowns at it.

“Why do they have--” Church begins, and then snaps his mouth shut as Carolina shushes him.

Felix grumbles, “Come on. We want to destroy the whole town, right? Gotta give the spell a boost.”

Behind Grif, Simmons doesn’t say a word, but Grif can hear his breath catch in his throat. Grif's claws come out at the casual mention of destruction. He spares a glance back at Simmons, seeing the stricken look on his face, and looks hastily back at the mirror when Locus speaks.  

“We have more than enough power already,” Locus says flatly. He points and a small green dot suddenly expands, growing larger until all of Westbridge is lost under the green. The green shimmers and then dwindles back to the small dot.

“Yeah, yeah,” Felix says. He grins. “We’ll save the heart for something _really_ fun, like taking out Drell.” He peers into the cauldron. His grin widens. “Just need the basilisk crest, and then it’s one hour and boom.”

“ _Boom_?” Simmons repeats weakly.

Grif swallows down another growl as Locus nods and disappears from view.

The scrying spell stays on Felix, who glances after Locus, and then holds up the heart and smirks. “Why not add a kick, mess with some stuffy Boston witches too.” He drops the heart into the cauldron, which bubbles and spits with a sudden violence. Behind him, the green dot pulses. The map changes, turning to one of Massachusetts as the green washes over most of it, engulfing Boston and nearly half the state.

The map shifts back to normal a second before Locus returns.

Grif leans a little closer, trying to study his expression. Unlike Felix, he doesn’t look too enthusiastic about the plan. Then again, it’s probably Grif’s wishful thinking that Locus might be having second thoughts. He likes to think he’s a good judge of character, but he hadn’t pegged Locus as a murderer when Locus showed up on his doorstep half-dead, just as some sad dude who pissed off the wrong person.

Locus drops the crest into the cauldron. The bubbles turns to a raging boil, flashing green and orange and crimson. “One hour,” he says in the same flat voice.

“Wait, I know where they are. That’s the _football field_!” Simmons says, so loudly and suddenly that Grif jumps, skittering backwards and bumping into someone’s legs. The tension building in his body comes out as an angry hiss.

The scrying ends, the mirror’s surface going blank. Carolina’s face is completely drained of color. She holds the knife in a white-knuckled grip, staring at it like she wants to break it or, more likely, stab Felix with it. “So it’s not our problem?” she says, still staring at the knife, and Grif blinks before he realizes the sharp question is directed at Church.

Church grimaces. He chews his lower lip anxiously. “Hey, I didn’t know you pissed him off enough to make him want to blow up the state, okay?” His voice shakes. He retreats to the armchair and stares between the knife and the mirror.

Simmons looks just as shaken as the kids even as he stares at the clock. “One hour,” he says. “T-that’s not a lot of time to stop them. Uh, how do we--?” He stops, looking down at Grif, a million questions in the anxious glance.

Grif realizes with a jolt of panic that he’s somehow the only adult witch in the room. Sure, Simmons is an adult, but he’s a mortal who’s been trying to learn magic via a photocopied teen witch spellbook. Carolina’s a half-mortal, which means she doesn’t know that much yet either, and even with Church’s weirdness, he probably doesn’t have a spell that will fix this.

Grif licks his nose. His tail thrashes. “I don’t--” The words come out as a growl instead. He takes a breath. Something in him steadies when Simmons bends down and touches his back, smoothing the bristling fur there. “This is big magic. Uh. We could sabotage the spell, maybe? If the kids could get their hands on-- crap-- uh.”

He’s sabotaged some of Kai’s spells in the past, when she was doing something that was going to get her into big trouble. She’s made a few illegal potions that he’d ruined with a nullifying ingredient. But of course his mind is going blank now that everyone is staring at him like he has all the answers. He closes his eyes, trying to concentrate, Simmons’ hand still on his back.

He’d used iron filings when they were younger, because it was the best available, but there has to be something else. “Uh, iron fillings, and crap, what is the crap mortals make, uh-- it’s in those dumb reusable water bottles--”  

“Plastic?” Simmons says, puzzled.

Grif is hit with a wave of relief so strong that he almost purrs. Then he remembers another problem. He twitches his whiskers in frustration. “Yeah, but not just any plastic. I can’t remember what kind.”

Simmons’ expression sets into a familiar determined look. “There’s six or seven types. I’ll find one of each.” He falters briefly, with an unhappy twist of his lips. “Or, uh, figure out where people get iron filings….” He rushes into the kitchen. There’s the sound of cupboards being opened and rummaged through.

“Plastic?” Church says blankly and then barks out a laugh. It has an edge of hysteria to it. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Right. I didn’t remember-- yeah, man, the Council _hates_ that mortals can make something that stops magic cold.” He squints for a second, and then shakes his head. “I don’t remember what type it is either.”

Carolina frowns. She’s still holding onto the knife. She looks down at it again and then tosses it onto the couch. “So, what, we throw water bottles or iron filings into the cauldron and that stops the spell?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Church mutters. He stands, pacing around the room and running an agitated hand through his hair. “So, all of our options are crap. We call the Council, we all get blamed and end up as cats. We go confront them, we’re-- Do I even have explain that one? It's Felix and Locus! We aren't exactly the witch police!” Church’s practically screeching by the time he finishes.

Grif interjects before the kid can piss off the neighbors. The last thing they need is the mortal police following up on a noise complaint and wondering why two teenagers are in Simmons’ apartment. “Yeah, you guys don't want to be cats. Or gerbils. Or whatever they turn you into. It sucks.”

“We’ve got the element of surprise,” Carolina says. “Could we sneak up, throw the plastic in, and run?”

“Yeah, like it could be that simple,” Church scoffs. Then he makes a face. “But it’s the least terrible option so far. Crap. Uh.” He glances at Grif. “Got any ideas?”

Grif licks his nose. He tries not to hiss in frustration at how useless he feels as a familiar. He misses magic more than ever now. The kids’ hopeful looks are like rubbing salt in the wound. “I came up with the plastic idea, remember? That’s all I’ve got. I mean, if you need a distraction, I’ll gladly try to claw Felix’s eyes out.” He’s only half-joking.

“This is all the plastic I have in the house,” Simmons says, bursting back into the room with a decent-sized bag. “So do we have a plan?”

“We do, but you’re not gonna like it,” Grif says.

Simmons frowns at him, and then looks at Church and Carolina. He sighs. “Great.”

 

* * *

 

The four of them crouch under the stadium bleachers, peering out onto the field. Most of the lights are off, leaving the field lit only by a few lights, the stars, and the weird glow of the cauldron. Locus and Felix stand beside it, their conversation too low to make out.

Carolina was hoping someone else would come up with a better plan on the ride here, but it seems like they’re stuck with the one they came up with at Simmons’ apartment. She feels hyper-aware of the knife in her backpack. She clenches her fists, remembering Grif’s remark about clawing out Felix’s eyes. She wishes the plan involved her punching Felix in the face.

“So how do we sneak up when they’ll see us coming?” Church asks.

“There was one invisibility spell in, er, the spellbook, but it had some Other Realm ingredients we’re not getting in the next forty minutes,” Simmons says. Carolina doesn’t know if Simmons sees the dirty look Church sends his way or if he’s ignoring it as he adds, “Can you become temporarily invisible with a passion spell, or--”

“Yeah, okay,” Church mutters. Dislike that Simmons knows so much about magic radiates off him. “Carolina and I can make ourselves invisible.” He points at himself and says, “Don’t let anyone see me.” A second later he’s vanished from sight. The bag with the plastic is pulled out of Simmons’ grip, and it too becomes invisible.

Simmons brightens for a split second, amazement over the spell flickering across his face, and then he frowns. Concern furrows his forehead. He glances between Carolina and the empty space where Church is. “I think I should--”

Carolina, turning herself invisible, says, “We need you here in case something goes wrong, Mr. Simmons. You and Grif can distract them or something, and then we’ll run.”

“But--”

Carolina squeezes through the gap between the bleachers. The slight grunt beside her and faint rustling of the bag tells her that Church has done the same. Otherwise the only hint of their approach is the slight indentations of their feet on the grass.

They get within twenty feet from the cauldron when Felix laughs. “Aw, it’s so nice to have company.” He flicks his fingers and summons a knife. He scans the football field, his eyes passing over Carolina without lingering, but it’s obvious that he knows someone’s nearby.

Carolina’s heart stops. She freezes in place. How did he--

“Crap, proximity spells,” Church says, a faint, stricken whisper a second before Locus silently waves a hand in a circular motion. Church reappears, wide-eyed and panicked.

Before Felix can do more than start to grin, his smile vicious in its terrible delight, a familiar voice shouts, “You haven't been nice, you haven’t been cordial, so for the next five minutes you're going to be mortal!”

There’s a flash of maroon light in the corner of Carolina’s eye. It flies towards Felix and Locus. Locus grabs Felix and yanks him sideways, the spell whizzing past them.

“Hey!” Simmons protests breathlessly.

Locus points towards him. Green light sparks off his finger.

“No!” Carolina says, the word catching in her throat, but the spell doesn’t hit Simmons because he’s already halfway to the ground, his knees buckling under him as he gasps for air.

“Crap,” he says, sagging sideways. He's clearly struggling not to collapse face-first onto the grass.  

Locus, about to cast another spell, pauses and frowns.

Carolina thinks he looks confused, but doesn’t spare another second. She breathes into her hands, concentrates, and runs. Screw the plan. She’ll be a distraction, and do what she wanted to do since Felix first sat next to her in study hall.

She moves too fast for Felix to do more than start to react. His eyes are just beginning to bulge in cartoonish surprise, his mouth half open, when her fist connects with his nose with a satisfying crunch. His head snaps back. He goes tumbling across the grass, landing a few feet past the cauldron. The knife spins from his hand.

Carolina doesn’t let herself slow, not when Locus is right there. She darts back towards Church, who’s holding the bag. Despite the fear and panic churning in her stomach, she can't help a satisfied grin at Felix's howl of rage.

She gets to Church’s side just as her backpack straps dig painfully into her shoulders like someone grabbed the backpack and is trying to yank her backwards. There’s a ripping sound.

Carolina instinctively ducks. The knife misses the back of her head by inches. It spins in the air in a familiar motion, hunting for her. The speed spell is still vibrating through her body, but there’s a tremor of fear mixed in. She _hates_ that knife.

She runs.

She leads the knife on a chase around the field, ducking and dodging the attacks. The ground beneath her feet shifts from grass to track, the familiar sound of her shoes hitting the tartan made strange and intense from her momentum. She runs in zigzags and circles, the knife trailing behind her. When the spell starts to ebb, she realizes that she’ll be a sitting duck. She has to get the bag and dump the plastic into the cauldron.

The spell dissipates when she’s a few feet from Church. She stumbles and flinches as the knife catches the sleeve of her shirt. Sweat trickles down her face. Her lungs burn. She sucks in a breath, trying to convince her exhausted legs to close the distance and get to Church.

“Leave her alone!” Church hisses, white-faced and furious. He gestures sharply at Felix, a savage motion of his hand that Carolina doesn’t recognize as she dodges another knife swing.

There’s a terrible crunching noise. Felix groans and doubles over, clutching at his arm which dangles oddly at his side. It’s broken, Carolina realizes as Felix gasps. “You--” The expression on his bloodstained face is terrible as he advances on Church.

Church gestures again, his lip curling.

Felix lurches and falls as his knee pops out of joint. His mouth opens, but he just makes a strangled, disbelieving noise, choked as though his throat is too tight with pain to yell. He curls in on himself, his face white with agony and rage.

The knife slows to a floating stop, spinning in place like it’s waiting for more instructions and Felix is too much in pain to order it around.

Carolina doesn’t think. She grabs the knife. She hates how the handle fits in her palm like it’s meant for it. Her fingers curl around it as it twitches uncertainly in her hand. She forces herself two steps forward. “Hey, Felix,” she says, the words scraping her dry throat, and his head jerks towards her. He’s still clutching his leg, his one arm dangling uselessly at his side. “Will two spells cancel each other out?”

She drops the knife into the cauldron.

Felix’s look of shock is satisfying for a second.

Then the cauldron jerks violently, half-lifting off the field as it starts to boil, even more intensely than when Felix had thrown in the basilisk thing during the scrying. The seething liquid almost sloshes over the edges, spitting and sparking with unnatural lights as the knife sinks below the surface.

A green acrid smoke billows from the cauldron, spiraling into the dark sky, but the cauldron doesn’t calm, the liquid still roiling and bubbling.

“Yeah, that’s not how it works,” Felix says through gritted teeth, wincing as he speaks. There’s a tinge of nasty amusement amid the pain in his voice. He flicks his fingers, growls, and then flicks his fingers again as Carolina retreats towards Church and wonders if she made things worse.

There’s another popping and crunching sound, and Felix snarls as he gets to his feet. His eyes burn, and Carolina, as tired as she is, steps instinctively between him and Church when he looks towards them with revenge in his expression.

He flicks his fingers again. Carolina braces herself, expecting more knives, and is caught by surprise as vines explode from the ground, crawling up her and Church’s legs. The vines drag them together, pinning their arms to their sides, Church’s chin hitting the back of Carolina’s head hard enough that she’s dizzy. The thorns prick at her skin, a dozen painful little jabs as she squirms, trying to get her hand free to cast a spell of her own.

The vines tighten, and Church yelps.

Felix wipes at the blood on his face and rubs at his arm, like it still aches even after he reversed Church’s spell. He’s breathing hard. His voice is raspy, like he’s exhausted himself doing so much magic. “Hey, Locus, the kid sped up...the spell. We need to go in ten minutes. I can’t...kill them slow like I want, but I can still make it hurt.” He smiles viciously towards Church. He takes another deep breath. “Neat trick, you little brat. Think I'll try it out, see how it feels to break a few of yours….”

Church just breathes heavily against Carolina’s hair.

There’s no response from Locus.

“Locus,” Felix says, turning. His eyes narrow.

When Carolina turns her head, a thorn digging into her cheek, she sees Locus. He’s crouched down, his expression strange, and Grif is sitting next to him, a paw on Locus’ knee.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Grif’s half-expecting the plan to fall apart, but he doesn’t expect it to fall apart so soon.

Simmons, already tense, starts vibrating with tension when Felix summons a knife. When Locus gestures and Carolina and Church reappear, he scrambles out from under the bleachers, almost kicking Grif in the face in his rush.

Grif crouches to avoid his feet and then bolts after him, watching as Simmons flings the mortality spell at Felix and Locus. He swallows down a disappointed groan when Locus grabs Felix and gets them both out of the way.

Simmons is already sagging to the ground when Locus throws a spell towards him. It passes harmlessly over his head, but Grif’s fur bristles. He runs to Simmons’ side. In the faint light, there’s a sheen of sweat on Simmons’ face, but he’s conscious, just already exhausted. He grimaces weakly at Grif and says, “Wish that had worked.”

“Would’ve been awesome,” Grif agrees. Beyond them, there’s a rush of air, and he looks up just in time to watch Felix go flying. Locus starts to turn towards him; his hand moves like he’s going to throw a spell at the fast blur that has to be Carolina.

Grif pauses just long enough to rub his head against Simmons’ elbow, breathing in his scent, before he runs full sprint towards Locus.

“Stop!” he says. He should probably say something else, but right now he just wants to stop Locus from whatever spell he’s about to use.

Locus pauses and looks down. His frown smooths out into a questioning look. “Dexter Grif?”

“Yeah, uh, in the fur,” Grif says. He skids to a halt in front of Locus. He stares up at him, weighing his words. Then he licks the tip of his nose and settles on bluntness. The worst thing Locus can do is kill him. “Dude, what are you _doing_?”

The frown returns to Locus’s face. “Something that needs to be done.”

Grif snorts. “Yeah, blowing up half of Massachusetts isn’t something that needs to be done.” When Locus raises his eyebrows, he adds, “We scryed on your stupid plan. You know Felix threw in that fire dragon heart, right?”

Locus has a terrible poker face. Frustration clouds his expression. It’s clear that he didn’t know, and just as clear that he’s unhappy about it.

Grif rubs salt in the wound. “Even if Felix wasn’t a jerk, what are you _doing_? You’re blowing up a city! What is that even going to accomplish?!”

“You understand what the Council is like firsthand,” Locus says. “They have to be stopped.”

Grif makes a show of glancing to his left and right. His heart sinks as he realizes that Felix has sent the knife after Carolina. His claws come out. He swallows down an impatient growl. “I don’t see any Council members around, just some scared kids.”

“This is part of a larger plan,” Locus says, but it’s said slowly. He’s seen the knife chasing after Carolina too.

Grif wishes he could roll his eyes. “Is that the same plan that got you thrown into jail on Pluto for eternity? Because it sounds like a _great_ one. If Carolina hadn’t screwed up her loophole spell, you’d still be there!”

Locus doesn’t say anything for a second. Then he shakes his head, a small, forceful movement. “A destroyed town, a destroyed state, they’re both reversible. The Council will turn back time and fix it, but they’ll be seen as--”

The cauldron thrashes from side to side, the sudden boiling so loud that it sounds like someone dropped a firecracker into it. Green smoke floats from it.

“That’s probably not good,” Grif mutters. His ears go flat, and he can feel every single fur stand on end as vines sprout from the ground and wrap around Carolina and Church. He grabs onto Locus’s leg and says urgently, “They’re kids. They’re just kids, you can’t let him hurt them--”

Locus bends, prying one paw from his pants as Grif clings to him. Grif tries to dig in his claws, but it’s pointless.

Felix calls over, sounding winded, “Hey, Locus, the kid sped up...the spell. We need to go in ten minutes. I can’t...kill them slow like I want, but I can still make it hurt.”

A growl builds in Grif’s chest. “If you ask me, the Council isn’t the only one that needs to be stopped,” he snarls. “Felix sounds like a guy with _great_ intentions.”

“Locus,” Felix repeats, a trace of impatience in his voice. He turns, and Grif watches his eyes narrow. Despite the anger and fear bristling his fur, Grif has a second of sheer delight at the mess Carolina made of the guy’s now bloodstained face.

“Felix,” Locus answers. There’s something in his deep voice that has Grif looking up in hope even before Locus asks, “What did you do with the fire dragon heart?”

“How did you--” Felix’s mouth snaps shut, but it’s too late.

Grif flicks his tail in satisfaction at the frown on Locus's face. He settles back on his back paws, letting go of Locus's leg. “Shouldn't have given Carolina that knife. Made it _super_ easy to spy on you and your crappy plan.”

Felix’s expression turns murderous. “Well, you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.”

Grif yowls more in surprise than pain as a vine erupts from the ground and wraps around him, thorns pricking him through his fur. Then the vine flings him and he goes flying. He lets his cat instincts kick in, twisting in the air and landing on his feet. When he looks up, he sees the vine going for another attack, the thorns growing larger as the vine whips towards him. He skitters backwards, already knowing it’s too fast and he can’t outrun it.

“ _Get away from him!”_ Simmons shouts, and a flash of welcome maroon light follows. It strikes the attacking vine, and immediately the green fades into sickly brown. The dying plant falls harmlessly at Grif's feet. When he looks up, he sees the vines around Carolina and Church dying too.

“Nice,” Grif says. As the kids untangle themselves from the withering vines, he spots Simmons, who’s on his feet again, though by the way he’s wobbling that magic took whatever energy he had left from the first spell.

Simmons’ gaze snaps towards him. He looks relieved. 

Then Grif’s attention is caught by Locus saying his name. When he refocuses, he sees that Locus is standing in front of Felix, his arms crossed. “There was no reason to attack him, he’s a _familiar._ ”

“He was trying to distract you!” Felix says. He jerks his head towards the boiling cauldron. “They want to stop the spell and be little heroes.” He spits out the last word with a sneer. While Grif was distracted, Felix has magicked the blood from his face. It doesn’t improve his looks.

“Distract me with the truth? The fire dragon heart--”

“Ugh, why do you care?” Felix shouts, throwing up his hands. “Westbridge, Boston, whatever, they’re all be fine! Why not go bigger?”

“Because destroying Boston wasn’t our orders,” Locus says.

“Orders?” Felix laughs, high and incredulous. “Who cares about _orders_?”

Locus doesn’t say anything. When Grif slinks forward a little to get a look at his expression, it reminds him of the way he’d looked dying slowly by the stone spell.

The silence stretches thin enough to snap.

Felix’s eyes widen a little. He laughs again, this time shaking his head. “From Control, I mean. Come on, he’s just using us. This whole thing is just until we can get some _real_ power!”

“Real power,” Locus says slowly.

“Yeah! Enough power to do what we’ve always wanted! Destroy the Council!”

Locus just looks at him, something like disappointment in his face.

Felix’s eyes narrow. He glances between Locus and Grif. He rolls his eyes. “Oh. Ooooh. I see what’s going on. You’re going _soft_. That hairball on legs put ideas in your head. Well, forget it. The only way to get anything is to take it by force.”

Locus gives a small shake of his head. “That’s enough.”

“No!” Felix snarls. His face flushes. He jabs a finger in Locus’s direction. “Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pretend there's a moral high ground! You aren’t better than me just because you have some moral compass! Your hands are just as dirty with the Lozanos! Why are you getting squeamish _now_? Did you forget what the Council did to you?”

“ _Felix_.”

The name is a warning growl and full of anger, the most emotion Grif has ever heard from Locus.

Felix ignores the warning, grinning a little like Locus just proved his point. “I know you hate them too. Make the Council _suffer_! Get some power so you can do what you want and I can do what I want!”

Locus stares at him for a second. Then, silent, he turns and steps towards the cauldron. He stretches out a hand.

Felix’s eyes widen. “Wait, what are you--”

“Stopping the spell,” Locus says flatly.

“What? No!” Felix shouts. Disbelief and then rage twists his features.

Locus ignores him. He stretches his hand out further. The boiling magic almost scorches his outstretched palm, but Grif doesn’t see him flinch. Instead his expression sets and his lips start to move.

“ _No_!” Felix snarls, and slashes at the air.

A gust of wind blasts Locus away from the cauldron.

Felix stares at his own hand, blinking and looking half-surprised. Then he sneers, his fingers curling into a fist. Bitterness fills his face. He turns towards where Locus is picking himself up off the ground. “You’re an idiot,” he hisses. “We’re so close and _now_ you get cold feet? Fine! I’ll do this myself.”

There’s movement in the corner of Grif’s eye. Church has the bag of plastic in his arms, about to throw it into the cauldron during the distraction. His arms tremble. Whatever he was doing while Grif was talking to Locus has exhausted him, but he takes another step closer to the cauldron.

“Oh no you don’t!” Felix says, and slashes at the air again.

Church goes flying. The bag falls from his arms.

Felix starts to gesture again, and then snarls as green light curls like a whip around his wrist and yanks his hand down.

“Enough,” Locus says. “We’re leaving.”

Felix doesn’t like the idea, judging by the way he curses and twists his wrist. The green whip dissolves and a spell sparks from Felix’s fingertips. Small lights dart at Locus like five knives, making Locus back even further from the cauldron.

While they’re distracted fighting, Grif bolts over to Church and Carolina. Both kids look exhausted, slumped on the ground and gasping for breath. Church is rubbing his head like he hit it during the tumble. Grif paces around them, frustrated enough to hiss. If he was human, he could grab the bag and toss it in himself. Instead he's stuck patting Carolina’s shoulder with his stupid paw as spells collide behind him.

“Come on, get the bag and throw it in,” he urges. When she tries to get her feet under her, she sags a little. He nudges her arm again. "Come on!"

“It doesn't have to be like this!” Felix says. His breathless voice is a mixture of wheedling and frustration. “You stop, the spell goes off, it all goes back to normal!”

“Hurting children shouldn’t be normal,” Locus says flatly. “It’s not why we started this.” He tries to shift closer to the cauldron and Felix blocks his path with another spell. “I’m stopping the spell, with you or without you.”

Felix stares at him for a second. Then his mouth twists. “...You were always more trouble than you were worth.”

“Felix--”

“No, this is better, actually. I'm sick of you and your dumb ideals. Constantly having to play act at caring about half-mortals... I'm done! Your magic isn't worth it anymore.” Felix plants his feet on the ground, takes a deep breath, and does another motion of his hand.

The ground between Felix and Locus splits. Terrible heat rolls out from the broken earth as a portal widens at their feet. Locus takes a step back, staring at Felix like he’s never seen the other witch before.

Grif recognizes that sulfuric smell, the acrid air that burns his nose as he sucks in a shocked breath. His fur goes flat against his body, and a low protesting groan escapes his throat. He presses himself up against Carolina. “Stay back,” he says, barely remembering to speak. “That’s a quick drop into a volcano.”

Felix shoots him a vicious smile. “Right on the money! Maybe you should all hop in!” He refocuses on Locus. He waves his hand again. Magic blooms behind Locus, nudging him forward towards the portal.

Locus takes one step forward and then stops. His expression sets. “You want to use me for my magic, Felix? Fine. _Take it_.” He brings his hand to his chest, makes a savage, tearing motion and then throws his hand out towards Felix.

Green magic surges from his hand and hits Felix in the chest.

Felix flinches like he expects to be thrown back. Then his forehead scrunches in confusion. The spell links them both for a moment, turning their features an unnatural green hue. He frowns down at the pulsing green light. “What--”

The portal expands under his feet. He drops with a scream.

The sound cuts off abruptly as the portal closes over his head and disappears. The sudden silence is deafening. The field is smooth and unblemished, with only the faint trace of sulfur still lingering in the air as evidence for what just happened.

Locus doesn’t move, his hand still outstretched in the throwing motion.

Grif studies him, but for once he can’t get a read on the guy.

“Okay,” Carolina mumbles. When Grif looks back at her, she’s clutching the bag in a shaking hand. “I’m gonna--” Determined, she gets to her feet with a groan and stumbles over to the cauldron. She flings the entire bag and its contents into it.

The cauldron rocks. Carolina covers her head with a halfhearted fling of her arm as she sits down with a thump next to the cauldron. Grif starts towards her. If it explodes or something--

The boiling stops.

Church squints. “Uh, is that--”

The cauldron launches like a rocket into the sky, magical flames of multicolored brilliance surging from it as it spirals and then seems to explode in mid-air into a silent explosion of colors like fireworks. The magic dissolves into nothing before it can hit the ground.

“It?” Church finishes weakly.

Grif eyes Locus, but he’s still staring at his own hand. He decides to give the guy a minute. He goes to check on Simmons instead, who’s sitting where he was standing when he did the vine spell.

Now that the danger’s past, though, Grif can feel every ache and pain from being flung by the vine. He grumbles under his breath, limping his way across the field. He curls up against Simmons’ hip.

Simmons doesn’t look much better than Carolina or Church. His skin has a grayish tinge and his hand shakes as it smooths over Grif’s head. “Well, uh,” Simmons says, and then either loses track of what he was about to say or was hoping he’d come up with something when he started talking. “Did Locus just, uh--”

“Drop Felix into a volcano? Yeah.”

“Right,” Simmons says. A weak laugh escapes him. “...Today’s been a lot.”

“You said it,” Grif agrees. He tucks himself under Simmons’ arm.

 

* * *

 

Carolina just sits there for a moment. The last hour is almost hazy, so many things happening at once that her brain can’t quite process it. It doesn’t help that she’s exhausted, her entire body aching and her head feeling heavy like it’s made of cement.

She manages to get back over to Church, who’s still rubbing his head. He gives her a wan smile, exhaustion carving temporary lines in his face. “So,” he says, drawing out the word. “That happened.”

“Yeah,” she says. “You okay?”

“I’ll live,” Church says. Then he makes a face, like he didn’t hear the horrible phrasing until the words were out of his mouth. “I mean, uh.” He darts a nervous look towards Locus, but the witch either didn’t hear him or is lost in his own thoughts, still staring at the spot where the portal swallowed Felix.

Carolina doesn’t know what to make of Locus. She’s too tired to really process his change of heart either, other than to be relieved that he ended up helping them. She sighs and leans against Church. “I guess we just rest for a bit until Mr. Simmons can drive, and then go home?”

“I guess,” Church says. Then, a little tentatively, “Are _you_ okay?”

Carolina grimaces. “Mostly?” She hated Felix, but she’s still pretty sure his dying scream is going to be in her nightmares for a while. She tries not to think about it, closing her eyes.

She’s half-dozing when headlights sweep over the field, jolting her back to full consciousness. She straightens from where she’s been resting her head on Church’s shoulder.

A car screeches to a halt behind the bleachers. It looks familiar.

Carolina realizes why when Grey and Kimball climb out of the car.

“Oh, crap,” Church mutters under his breath.

Nearby, Simmons gets to his feet, half-spilling Grif off his lap. He weaves his way a little unsteadily towards Carolina and Church, with Grif trailing close behind. “Uh, what exactly have you told Ms. Kimball and Doctor Grey?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Church says.

“Great.”

Carolina stands. The nap helped, but she’s still exhausted. She feels like she could sleep for an entire day and still want to go back to sleep. She tries not to show it as Grey and Kimball walk towards her. She opens her mouth to say something, realizes she has no idea what to say, and snaps her mouth shut. Heat crawls into her face.

Grey and Kimball are almost to them when Kimball’s gaze jerks sideways and lands on Locus, who seems to be the only one who hasn’t noticed their approach. Her expression, which was a puzzled anger, goes cold. She points a finger.

Chains appear and wrap around Locus. He doesn’t make any movement to stop her, just staggers a little and then steadies himself, blinking in Kimball’s direction. Recognition dawns in his eyes. “Vanessa Kimball,” he says in his deep voice. He doesn’t make any attempt to break free.

“Locus,” she spits. Carolina’s stomach roils at the hatred in her voice. Then Kimball looks around. She bares her teeth, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Where’s Felix?”

“Dead,” Grif says. “Locus killed him, so maybe lay off with the chains and crap?”

Kimball stares at him like he’s speaking in tongues, but Grey laughs.

“Well, Felix’s death will relieve quite a few people if that’s true! But those chains aren’t coming off just on a stranger's say-so!” Her expression hardens. The smile drops from her face, turning her features almost unrecognizable. She stares at Carolina and Church. “Now explain.”

It’s not a spell, but the order still makes Carolina instinctively open her mouth to obey. A long, “Um,” escapes her lips. She exchanges a panicked look with Church, who shrugs, clearly also not sure where to say. Carolina squirms. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“I see,” Grey says, still unsmiling. “Then let me start with a question. Why is your chemistry teacher here?”

Simmons looks startled.

“Oh,” Carolina says. She relaxes a little even as Church grimaces. At least Grey asked a simple question to start. “Mr. Simmons knows about magic--”

Grey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that’s an easy fix,” she says, and starts to point.

“No, wait!” Carolina says, but her protest is half-lost at Grif’s furious hiss.

Grif plants himself between Grey and Simmons. With his fur bristling and his tail puffed up, he doubles in size. He doesn’t say a word, just spits and hisses at Grey like he’s too angry to speak. His claws and teeth flash in the light. He looks ready to actually lunge at her.

Grey’s eyebrows go up again. She lowers her hand as Carolina says quickly, “Don’t wipe his memory! Mr. Simmons helped us stop Felix!”

“Did he?” Grey says, giving Simmons a sharp look that has Grif snarling and Simmons blanching. “And how would a mortal do that?”

“He can do magic,” Carolina explains. She notices too late that Church has been twitching his mouth and making a weird face in her direction. He sighs as she speaks, and mutters, “This is gonna go great.”

Grey laughs. “Oh, Carolina, that’s not possible.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Church mutters under his breath.

Grif’s apparently recovered his voice, though the words rumble from his chest like another growl. “I don’t care if you believe Carolina or not. Just leave him alone.”

Kimball has been glaring at Locus this entire time. Now she looks away. The look on her face makes Carolina feel about six inches tall. “We’ll talk about Mr. Simmons later. Right now I want to know how you and Church ended up anywhere near Felix and Locus and _what happened tonight_.”

Carolina licks her lips. “Uh, I guess start at the beginning?” she says, glancing at Church.

He makes a face. “Why not? We can’t get into more trouble.”

So Carolina explains. She tells Grey and Kimball about trying to find a loophole to talk to her mom, how wrong things went, Simmons rescuing them, Felix giving her the knife, Carolina scrying and pranking Felix, Felix and Locus’s plans to destroy most of Massachusetts, Locus turning against Felix, Felix dying. By the time she finishes, her voice is almost gone.

Both Grey and Kimball stare.

Then Kimball says flatly, “...You’re grounded.”

Carolina winces, but doesn’t protest. “For how long?”

“Let’s start at a century and see how I feel after that.”

Church starts to argue. Kimball fixes him with a look, and he winces and shuts up.

Grey taps a finger against her lips. “I have _so_ many questions, but they’re going to have to wait! We need to get rid of any evidence you two and Mr. Simmons were here. Otherwise the Council is going to have a lot of questions and things are going to get very unpleasant for all of us.” She sketches something in the air. Her finger glows, and a purple window appears in front of her, sigils and kanji swirling inside the frame. She twitches her finger and the window shifts.

Carolina doesn’t understand what the shifting symbols mean, but Grey’s expression goes through several emotions as once as she turns the window in a slow circle, scanning the whole field. “Well,” Grey says slowly. “That’s all...very interesting.”

She gives Simmons a look, one that Carolina recognizes. It’s the expression Grey wore whenever she looked at Church in those first few weeks, like she wanted to take him apart to see how he worked.

Grif hasn’t budged from his spot at Simmons’ feet. He gives her a wary glare as Simmons blinks at her.

“And Vanessa, you can drop the chains,” Grey adds. Unexpectedly, she giggles. “In the state Locus is in, he couldn’t harm a fly!”

Kimball scowls. “He’s staying where he is.”

Grey shrugs, as though she doesn’t really care. “If you insist. But I will need help erasing the magical effluvium.”

“Effluvium?” Carolina mouths at Church.

“Magical fumes, the stuff left over after a spell,” Church whispers back, and then winces as Grey quirks an eyebrow at Church and says, half-approving, half-scolding, “You did some _nasty_ spells!”

“Uh. I was really mad?”

“Apparently.”

Kimball glares at Locus for another second, and then shakes her head. “Fine. Let’s get rid of the evidence.” She hasn’t looked at Carolina or Church since she demanded an explanation, but disapproval radiates off her in waves as she goes to help Grey erase the invisible fumes.

Carolina is pretty sure she was serious about them being grounded for a century.

After a few minutes, Grey announces, “There! Now it’s like Carolina, James, and Mr. Simmons were never here.”

Grif snorts. “Great. Now what? Even if we all scram, the Council is gonna wonder what Felix was doing here.” He pauses. His whiskers twitch, his ears flick sideways. “I bet they're gonna come knocking on my door again since the stooge thinks I'm Locus's number one fan.”

“Then they’ll believe you if you stay behind with Locus and tell them that you convinced him to turn himself over to the Council,” Kimball says.

“Nope!” Simmons says immediately. “That’s a bad plan.”

The chains chime faintly as Locus shifts in place. “He did convince me.”

The group blinks at him, Grif looking almost comical in his surprise. He recovers first. “Nah. I just told you some important facts, namely that Felix was a dick. You’re the one who did the right thing.”

Locus’s mouth twists.

“It’s a bad plan and we’re not doing it,” Simmons says sharply. “What if the stooge doesn't believe you? What if he does and you get whisked off to the Other Realm and--” His voice gets higher, trembling with strain.

Carolina blinks at him, realizing that he’s about five seconds away from a panic attack.

“Hey,” Grif says. He leans up, patting Simmons on the knee until Simmons looks at him. His tail thrashes slowly. “That’s not gonna happen. I convinced him to let me stay with a mortal, remember? I’ve got that moron wrapped around my claw.”

Simmons bites his lip. “I still think it’s a bad plan.”

Grif laughs hollowly. “Yeah, no argument there. But it’s the only one we’ve got.” His paw lingers on Simmons’ knee. “But you guys should go."

"We should," Kimball agrees. "There’s no way the Council didn’t notice that explosion."

Grey's been watching Grif and Simmons with a look Carolina can't figure out, but when Kimball speaks, she nods. "And they’ve probably tracked it to Westbridge by now!”

When Kimball turns towards the car, Grey adds, amused, “Forgetting something?”

For a second Kimball looks confused. Then she glances at Locus, who’s still in chains. Her mouth twists. “Right.” She waves, reluctance in the gesture, and the chains vanish. She gives another wave of her hand, probably to get rid of the magical fumes.

Simmons still looks worried. His gaze lingers on Grif. “Good luck. Uh, I guess I’ll go wait at the apartment--”

“Oh no, you’re coming with us,” Grey says. She’s smiling again, but there’s a trace of steel beneath her cheerful tone. “We need to _talk._ ”

Grif turns his head to glare. His tail twitches faster.

“Oh,” Simmons says weakly. He looks between Grey and Kimball. Whatever he sees in their faces makes him flush and look even more nervous. “Right. You probably have some, uh, questions.”

“Oh, just a few,” Kimball says grimly.

 

* * *

 

“Go to your rooms,” Kimball says as they enter the brownstone.

Her tone doesn’t invite any argument, but Church scowls. His gaze darts between her and Simmons. Frustrated curiosity turns his protest into a whine. “But--”

Kimball fixes him with a look.

He shuts his mouth. “Yeah. Grounded. I remember.” He meekly heads towards the stairs, bumping against Simmons in his rush to escape Kimball’s anger.

Carolina follows him and blinks when he follows her into her room. His frown melts away to a victorious grin. He holds up a red hair. “I think we can do one more spell. I really want to see what they say to Mr. Simmons.”

Carolina pulls her half-destroyed backpack off her shoulders. Somehow the mirror didn’t fall out when the knife tore itself free or during the chase. The only sign of damage is a second cracked shell.  

A second later, she and Church are both sitting on her bed and watching the shimmering mirror surface clear. The mirror shows Simmons, Kimball, and Grey seated around the kitchen table.

Simmons eyes them like he’s half-expecting them to use a memory spell on him now that Carolina and Church aren’t around. He plucks nervously at the tablecloth before he forces his hands still. “Uh. So you had questions.”

“Yes. And we want honest answers,” Kimball says. She points towards Simmons, who flinches and then looks both confused and relieved when she says, “Whisper, mumble, scream, and shout, let the honest truth come out.”

Grey sighs as the magic washes over Simmons. She makes a moue of distaste. “Oh, Vanessa, really? You know how those spells are often more trouble than they’re worth.”

Kimball ignores the comment. She fixes her eyes on Simmons. “How exactly do you know Carolina and Church?”

Simmons looks confused by the question. “Not going to ask about me doing magic first? Um, okay. Right. I taught them both chemistry. Remember, you came to the Parent-Teacher Conference?”

Grey leans forward. “But that’s not the whole story. How did you learn about magic?”

“Uh, I found Grif in the school parking lot. Well, I didn’t learn right then. It took him a couple days to slip up and start talking to me.” Simmons laughs weakly. “Probably because I had a concussion and he didn’t think I’d remember. But the whole thing about familiars and magic and witches came out, and so when I found a spellbook at school--”

“Aw, crap,” Church groans as Grey and Kimball chorus, “A _spellbook_?”

“Uh, yeah. I found it in study hall, under a table. I, uh, made a copy and put it back. I didn’t know who it belonged to until I was doing experiments at school because Grif didn’t want me trying magic in the apartment. But then Carolina and Church tried to do their spell to talk to their mom and--” Simmons’ mouth snaps shut and works for a moment, like he’s resisting saying anything else.

“And?” Kimball says.

Simmons struggles for another second. Then a shout escapes him so loudly that Carolina is pretty sure they would’ve heard it without the scrying mirror. “And seriously, what is _wrong_ with the Council? What’s their problem with mortals? They’re separating kids from their parents and--”

Kimball blinks at him. A faint smile crosses her face. It’s gone as quickly as it came. Then she holds up a hand and says, “Mr. Simmons.” When he stops, flushed and embarrassed by his outburst, she adds, “That’s a whole other conversation. Right now let’s focus. The night Felix and Locus escaped prison, that was the first time you knew Carolina and Church were witches?”

“Yeah. I mean, I knew that there were witches in the school, just from some weird stuff and the spellbook, but I didn’t know it was them.”

“And what contact have you had with the Council?” Kimball asks.

Carolina frowns, wondering at the strange question.

Simmons only shrugs and says, “A witch who works for them visited my apartment twice to talk to Grif. We call him the stooge since he’s never introduced himself.” He snorts. “He really doesn’t know how to talk to mortals. He pretended to be a cat inspector and expected me to buy it.” He pauses and his expression sours. “The second time he did a spell so I had to walk around the neighborhood until he was finished questioning Grif about Locus. It was such a sloppy spell, I almost walked into traffic!”

“And you’re mortal?”

“Yes.”

Kimball looks skeptical, while Grey looks intrigued and like she wants to run a few diagnostic spells on him.

Simmons looks a little nervous at their reactions. “But please don’t wipe my memory.” He bites his lip. His fingers go back to fidgeting with the tablecloth. In a rush, he says quickly, “What do you think is happening with Grif and Locus? Do you think the Council will believe them? Do you think the stooge will take Grif away?”

“I can’t tell you what the Council will do,” Kimball says. Her voice is filled with a surprising bitterness. “Sometimes I think they make decisions by flipping a coin.” This time she’s the one who closes her mouth with a snap, looking like she didn’t intend to say that much.

“I warned you,” Grey says with a sigh.

“Wait.” Simmons looks between them. Carolina recognizes the look. It’s the one he wore when she showed him the speed spell. Curiosity lights his face. “So you used a truth spell, right? And it spreads to people within the proximity? Is that something that just happens with truth spells, or is it something that happens with other types of spells too? How far will the truth spell spread? Will Carolina and Church be affected upstairs?”

Grey looks taken aback. “That’s not--”

“And what about effectiveness? I know I couldn’t hold back what I was thinking earlier, but what about-- oh!” Simmons looks down at the white tablecloth. “This table cloth is...is white!” His eyes widen. “I just tried to say it was green, but it didn’t happen! So not only does it compel you to tell the truth, but you can’t tell a lie either, not even a small one. That’s so-- Can I take notes?”

“As entertaining as this detour in magical theory is, no.”

"That's okay. I remember the spell. I can try it later. Well, if Grif lets me." The excitement dims in his face. "And if--"

Kimball, meanwhile, looks confused. “Try the spell later? But you’re--” Her mouth works. Surprise widens her eyes. “You’re a _mortal_?”

“Yes...? That's what I told you? Under a truth spell? Are you deaf?” Simmons blanches. “Wait, I didn't mean to say that--”

“Isn’t it _fascinating_?” Grey asks happily as Kimball looks stunned. “The political ramifications alone would be incredible.”

Kimball stares between them, her mouth open.

Grey giggles. “I know it’s impossible for witches to die of apoplexy, but this little revelation might kill Drell anyway. Imagine his expression!”

Simmons grimaces. “Uh, let’s not tell the Council. Grif was pretty set on that. Speaking of Grif--”

Grey waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t actually tell the Council. They’d probably wipe the memories of everyone involved to keep this sordid little secret, and besides, I really want to see what happens.” Noticing Kimball’s expression, she giggles again. “Vanessa, I might follow most of the Council rules, but that’s only because I’m not willing to suffer the consequences of breaking them. It’s not as though I respect any of them. Or any of the Council members! Cassandra is the only one with any sense, and even that’s three days out of five-- and oh.” She wrinkles her nose. “This is why I don’t like truth spells.”

“I _knew_ she didn’t like the Council as much as she claimed,” Church mutters.

“Right,” Simmons says. He takes a deep breath. Carolina can see the tension visible in his shoulders and the way he sets his jaw as he leans forward, intent. The strain from earlier is back in his voice. “Uh, about the Council wiping everyone’s memories. If the stooge takes Grif away, he’ll wipe my memories of Grif, right? If, if he does, is the, is the spell reversible? Could you-- is there a way for me to remember?”

The amusement leaves Grey’s face. “No,” she says gently. “Not that we wouldn’t want to, but it’s not possible. Some magic is permanent.”

“There isn’t a workaround? We could, I don’t know, make a magical copy of my memories--”

Grey looks thoughtful. Then she shakes her head, looking regretful. “As far as I’m aware, no such spell exists. If we had a few days to experiment, but….”

“Oh,” Simmons says in a small voice.

Grey and Kimball exchange a look as Simmons’ expression crumples briefly. A second later he has himself under control, except for the way he’s crumpling the tablecloth between his fingers.

“We just have a few more questions, and then you can go back home,” Kimball says.

“Right. Okay.”

Kimball and Grey exchange another look. Then Kimball asks, “You’ll keep all this a secret? Carolina and Church’s involvement with Felix and Locus’s escape and everything else that happened?”

Simmons blinks. He looks surprised by the question, and then slightly offended. “I kept their secret for four months already.” He pauses, and adds in a low mutter, “Besides, I’m not telling the Council _anything._ ”

“Good,” Grey says. She studies him for a moment. Then she leans back in her chair. “Well, I have a dozen other questions, but they’re all pointless if the Council’s lackey wipes your memory and you forget about magic! I’ll save them in case the worst doesn’t happen.”

“Uh, okay?” Simmons says, back to looking stressed and worried.

Grey points. A plate of food and a large glass of water appear in front of Simmons. "Have some water and some food before you go.”

“Really thought they were going to wipe his memory as soon as we left the room,” Church says. He doesn’t sound disappointed, exactly, but Carolina still gives him a look.

“He helped save our lives,” she reminds him.

“I know! And hey, I’m not the one who tried to garrote him.”

Carolina flushes at the reminder. “Shut up.” About to drop the spell, she hesitates. She remembers Simmons’ desperate question and Grif’s bravado. She watches Simmons take a sip of his water. “Do you think they’ll take Grif back to the Other Realm and wipe Mr. Simmons’ memory?”

Church makes a face. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Carolina is exhausted, but she’s not going to sleep well if she doesn’t know what’s going on with Grif and Simmons. What if their reward for helping her and Church save most of Massachusetts is being separated? Guilt twists in her stomach. She grits her teeth and keeps the spell going.

It’s Church’s turn to give her a look. He doesn’t say anything, just steals one of her pillows and props himself up to wait.

She’s half-asleep by the time Simmons finishes eating, the sound fading from the spell as it weakens. She keeps the visual going through sheer determination. The mirror follows Simmons as he gets into his car. For a minute he doesn’t move, just clutches at the steering wheel and takes a few deep breaths. His mouth moves, like he’s talking to himself.

The spell continues through his slow driving, which Church makes fun of under his breath until Carolina nudges him silent.

Simmons hesitates at his door, fumbling with his keys.

He steps inside, and Carolina winces at the dread in his face. For a second she holds her breath, watching his worried gaze scan the room, his hands trembling fists at his sides. Then relief crowds out the fear. He leans against the door, like his knees are weak, and then propels himself across the room in a hurried rush.

Carolina holds onto the spell long enough to watch Simmons collapse onto the couch. Grif, apparently no worse for the wear from his conversation with the witch police, immediately flops across his legs. His head is up, his eyes fixed on Simmons’ face. His whiskers twitch, and Simmons grimaces and then laughs soundlessly.

“Looks like they’re okay,” Church says.

“Yeah,” Carolina says. She drops the spell a second later and falls asleep in the next.

 

* * *

 

Vanessa purses her lips when she opens Carolina’s bedroom door.

Carolina and Church are asleep in a tangle of limbs. Church is drooling. Somehow Carolina has managed to steal both pillows. Only one is actually under her head. The other is clutched in a fist that dangles off the bed.

“I told them to go to their rooms,” Vanessa whispers.

Grey visibly swallows back a laugh, her eyes bright. “After everything, _that’s_ what you’re angry about?”

“Oh, I’m angry about more than that,” Vanessa says dryly. She lets her gaze linger while Carolina’s hair tickles Church’s cheek and he turns his face away with a protesting mumble before he sinks deeper into sleep. Fondness and anger tighten her chest in equal measure. It’s hard to believe that only a few hours ago Carolina and Church were trying to fight Felix and Locus themselves.

Grey’s wearing a similar look on her face. Her lips quirk ruefully, but her voice is warm. “I don’t think we got into this level of trouble when _we_ were teenage witches, did we? I knew being temporary guardians would be exciting but, well, not quite _this_ much.”

“No, we didn’t,” Vanessa says. She sighs.

Grey looks at Carolina and Church for another minute, and then backs further into the hallway with a murmured, “Let’s let them sleep. When they wake up, we can discuss their punishment for keeping this a secret. And what exactly they know about Mr. Simmons using magic!”

“I am not thinking about that right now,” Vanessa says firmly. Learning that Carolina and Church were the ones who accidentally helped Felix and Locus escape Pluto and that Felix and Locus had planned to destroy half of Massachusetts were more than enough surprises for one night. She’s not going to think about their teacher and the implications of mortals doing magic.

She focuses on something she’d much rather think about instead. Closing the bedroom door softly behind her, she smiles at Grey. “So tell me all your thoughts on Drell.”

Grey shakes her head, though she looks amused. “I knew I’d regret you using that spell! I am keeping my mouth shut, thank you, Vannessa. You’re not getting another word about the Council from me without another truth spell.” She pauses and giggles. “Or a couple glasses of wine.”

Vanessa feels her smile widen. It’s another revelation, but an easy one to handle, that she and Grey might actually be friends. If anyone had told Vanessa a year ago that she would actually like and respect Emily Grey, she would’ve laughed in their face. Now sitting on the couch and drinking wine together as Grey trash talks the Council sounds like the best ending to an otherwise stressful day.

“That sounds like a challenge.”


End file.
